


Every You and Every Me

by KillerOfHope



Category: Lucifer (TV), Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Crossover, Dimension Travel, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Season 5 for SPN, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:27:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26677417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillerOfHope/pseuds/KillerOfHope
Summary: Sam Winchester finds himself in Los Angeles, a few universes away from his own. Lucifer Morningstar gets himself a new bartender.
Relationships: Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)/Sam Winchester
Comments: 27
Kudos: 160





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love the TV show, but I have read some of the comics. I will call it a blend between both or simply a free interpretation. There are no particular spoilers for the Lucifer TV Show. Timeline for Supernatural is a little uncertain. It may come up later, depending on how it goes. Otherwise, I have been _burning_ to write this crossover pairing ever since I saw a similar prompt on spnkinkmeme. Currently, I am stuck and I hope posting the first part will grant me the inspiration to take this further.

First impressions are unreliable. People like to lie to themselves. 

In this case, though, Lucifer can only blame himself. He didn't pay attention when Maze told him she would be out headhunting and hired a new bartender. Of course, he nodded it off. Lucifer left the management of the Lux to Maze, she's too ruthless to get distracted by fancy faces. 

Thus, he slides on a chair next to the bar and orders himself a drink. Chloe dragged him on a merry goose chase involving three murder cases and a robbery being connected through occult messages, insisting she needed his unique talents for that. Lucifer would have disagreed, but he doesn't like to leave Chloe hanging, especially not in the middle of a case. It had been vaguely amusing, trying to understand gibberish painted on the walls. 

"Can you get me the good stuff?" Lucifer orders and lets his gaze roam over the dance floor. "Top shelf, upper left corner. 

In the split second, it takes for him to reach for the glass put in front of him he notices that's not Joe's hand. Joe is far slimmer and paler, a performer with anxiety issues whom Maze hired for his wit and because he needed three feet between himself and his customers for a while. 

"You are ... not Joe," Lucifer says and puts his glass down. His survey for today's midnight snack among the crowd is immediately forgotten. 

The man behind the bar, currently busy with drying glasses with a towel, looks amused. "No." 

The owner of the Lux throws his new employee an appreciative glance. There a few things he notices immediately, cursing himself for being a blind fool in the last few days. For one, the unnamed stranger is tall. As tall as Amenadial and just as broad-shouldered. A little bit leaner, though. But something about his stance tells the devil this one is used to putting his body to good use and not in a fun way. He doesn't look like a show-off, like the assholes who hits the gym three hours a day to get fawned at. 

"Do you have a name? Or am I not allowed to know that?" Lucifer asks after the stranger holds his gaze.

His new bartender, dressed in jeans and a black tee, smiles. Amused and good-natured like he's in on the joke. Lucifer's eyes fixate on the naked collarbone, very distracting since the beautiful man tied his brown hair back to have out of the way. 

"Name's Sam." With a sheepish smile, he adds, "The papers say I'm Matthew Tuck." 

Lucifer laughs at the unexpected honesty. He empties his glass and puts it down for a refill. "Well, Mr Tuck, I'm going to call you Sam, if you don't mind." 

"Not at all," Sam nods. Lucifer is barely able to hear the words over the music. 

Their conversation gets interrupted by a group of girls walking up to bar. 

He takes pleasure in watching Sam with the customers. He is not shy if a little reserved. Not a chatty person, like Joe who swirled glasses, drinks and dazzled the crowd with a smile. The regulars do not seem to mind the change and the newcomers openly ogle the dark and quiet stranger. 

Lucifer admits that Sam adds a little mystery. He is a man who barely talks through the entire evening and rather communicates with smiles, grunts and hums. He is a good listener and they love him for it. Drinks cross the counter in a steady flow, the waiters come and go and never have to wait for long while Sam rules the space behind the bar. He walks the floor, alone and it seems like magic that he manages the drinks and orders so well. 

Maze did good with that one and Lucifer approves how Sam keeps track of the people who are too drunk to drive. At the end of the night, there a good collection of car keys in his possession and enough youngers have been safely off. 

"Smart move, calling the same taxi company over and over again," Lucifer offers his opinion by the time they are closing. He spends a lot of time on stage tonight, but he kept an eye on Sam. 

Mostly out of curiosity, there are senses tingling at the edge of his awareness and he wants to know why. 

Maybe it is the way Sam never avoid his gaze. 

"Saves time and the drivers will be grateful. A steady flow of customers keeps them from doing something stupid," Sam shrugs and locks the car keys away. "A symbiotic relationship. People are here to have a good time, not to wake up to a horror story next morning." 

Lucifer slides back onto one of the bar stools. "So you are looking out for them?"

Now the club is empty, the music has been turned off and the cleaning crews have started to mop down the place. They ignore him, his presence at odd hours hardly being unusual. Lucifer does not know all of them, but he suspects Maze keeps quite a few supernatural creatures on their payroll. It comes with benefits from time to time. 

What are the odds that Sam is one of those as well who is glad that his new boss has a tolerance for strange needs, unusual working hours and weird habits? 

"I don't see why not." Sam shrugs again. He turns his back to Lucifer. 

The devil traces the ponytail with his eyes and they land on the muscles shoulders. With the lights turned back on and the colours no longer flashing in the darkness, he spots some white lines disappearing under the black wife-beater. 

_ Is that how Maze found this treasure?  _ Lucifer edges a little closer and makes use of the fact that he can see in the dark. He admits while he trusts Maze's choice this is a little odd for her. She prefers people she is able to command. Meek little fellows like Joe who would drop to their knees with a single glance and happily eat her out if demanded. 

Sam is not a push-over. 

Someone who has no trouble holding the devil's gaze does not tend to let themselves ordered around on the whims of a homicidal demon. 

Minutes pass as Lucifer watches Sam do his work and prep for the next night while he nurses his drink. 

"Are you actually making me say it?" Lucifer asks after a while. 

Sam turns and his lips twitch, signs of hidden humour that is deeply buried under layers of gloom and brooding. 

"If you want to say something, I am not going to stop you. You are signing my paycheck." The bangs have come loose through the night and fall into Sam's line of vision. 

Desire curls through Lucifer's guts and he swallows around a dry throat. The way Sam is so  _ at ease  _ with him is messing with his head. 

As he said before, people lie to themselves even more often than they do to other people. It makes living among humanity a little hard sometimes when you possess an aptness for the truth. 

"Since you insist on dancing around it," Lucifer sighs and puts down his glass. 

He slides off his chair and walks around the bar, intrigued how Sam does not flinch back. He keeps his solid stance, like a warrior ready to defend his territory. Another possible clue that this one  _ has to know  _ what Lucifer is. Who he is. Lucifer's fingers tingle, itching to find out who Sam might be in return. 

He fists the wife-beater, aware of the warm skin beneath his hand. 

"Do you want to come upstairs with me and join me for a drink? You must be thirsty after working through the night," Lucifer says. His voice drops a little, shadowing the desire he oozes. He  _ wants  _ this man and he is keenly aware of the lack of height difference. 

Next to Amenadial, he doesn't look like it, but Lucifer is taller than the norm. Most humans have to look up in order to meet their eyes, one reason why they rather lower their gaze. Sam has no such trouble. 

"Hm, if you are willing to talk about boundaries first, I might take you up on your offer." 

A shiver runs down Lucifer's spine. 

_ Uh oh.  _

"Do you prefer a safeword or the stop-light system?" He purrs as he drags Sam to the elevator. 

He resists kissing the man right here. This is not one of his usual early morning snacks. 

This needs to be savoured. Lucifer does not take Sam for a person easily convinced and he half expected a refusal. 

The door pings and closes behind them. With a slow but determined move, Sam presses him gently against the mirror, rubbing his thumb against Lucifer's stomach. 

He plays with the buttons of his shirt as he leans over and whispers, "Who says that I am the one who is going to need a stop signal?" 

One sentence from this stranger and Lucifer's collar feels to tight around his neck. 

With great effort he loosely lets his hands settle on Sam's hips and resists the urge to do horrible, unspeakable things to him before the elevator reaches the loft. 

His restraint gets rewarded as a warm mouth runs over his neck, soft and dry while placing tiny, teasing kisses on his skin. 

"I will take that drink now." Lucifer's voice is rough when the doors open and he pushes Sam back into the open space. 

His bed feels so close and is yet unreachable. Lucifer does not need thousands of years as Ruler of Hell on his resume in order to know Sam would drop everything if they don't have the talk about limits beforehand. Chances are that he would run, hide and inflict possibly some great damage beforehand, never to be seen again. 

Lucifer runs a hand through his hair and throws his jacket over a chair, rolling up his sleeves. He loves sex in every form possible. Rarely he spends his nights alone. He opens his doors for anyone willing and interesting. One night of pleasure, granting the young and desperate a handcrafted miracle they will never forget. 

Seldom he meets people that affect him as Sam does. He hasn't even kissed that man yet, not properly. 

"What's your favourite poison?" Lucifer wants to know as he stops in front of his collection of expensive bottles. 

Sam looks a bit out of place, dressed in dark rough jeans and a shirt. He is sweaty and a little dirty from the night shift, but his composure is confident. 

"Whiskey," Sam answers, but he is not looking at Lucifer. Rather he is glancing around and the devil can tell he is not one of those impressed by the interior. 

Lucifer notices how Sam checks the exists, potential hiding places and weapons. The obvious impressive items like the piano he ignores, though Sam's gaze lingers for a moment. Like he expects the keys to move. The devil laughs, resisting the temptation. "I bet, what you usually drink is a lot cheaper than what you about to taste now."

Sam's honest grin feels like a win. Afterwards, he does not bother to hide the suspicion laying in wait. It's just as exciting as the low lust and the simmering attraction. 

Lucifer pours Sam one of the best whiskey he has and hands him a glass, guiding him towards the balcony. If his tasteful lounge cannot impress this man, maybe he will get better results with the view. 

"Oh," Sam makes a small noise when he steps out. "This is beautiful." 

"I admit things like these makes it worth keeping humanity around." 

Lucifer joins Sam and puts his own glass down. He barely tastes the whiskey, now that he has the opportunity to openly study Sam. Up close this man is even more beautiful and intriguing than behind the bar. 

  
  


  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, everyone. Thank you for your support. I am afraid a life with covid19 in a systemically relevant job is not kind to my free time. While I do not work in health care - my gratitude to everyone who does - life is hectic and difficult. I will try to update as I can but please be patient. This story is marked as WIP for a reason.

Lucifer knows the ugly side of humanity, he used to punish the worst of them. The detective showed that they could be better and not simply because they were lured by the promise of paradise. Quite a few acted on their own accord and preferred not to lay down their good work at God's intention. 

It pleased him to no end, learning that humanity slowly etched away from worshipping his Father. 

His personal grudge aside, it was somewhat of a truce and the foundation he used to communicate with Amenadiel. 

That recent development, formed over the last decade he spent on Earth, didn't change his opinion that humans could be incredibly boring. Their problems are always the same and they all sought affirmation of love, their worth, and a purpose in life. 

They made good distractions, but only a handful made him look twice in their direction. This man in front of him, Lucifer can not stop staring at. 

There is something  _ off  _ about Sam. 

It's the look in his eyes. They make Lucifer restless. Here, above the roofs of L.A. it dawns Lucifer this won't be a simple seduction. It is honest want that's crawling through his gut. 

His ability to read people can't quite grasp what Sam is supposed to be and Lucifer is prepared to handle the unexpected. There is no doubt that he is no normal human who goes about their day, drowning in ignorance. 

"Can I kiss you?" Lucifer murmurs low. He slides closer and shivers with suppressed want when Sam does not back away. "I wanted a taste since I first laid eyes on you." 

Sam smiles. He appears curious and open to the suggestion, but he still looks like he knows something Lucifer doesn't. 

"Yes. Yes, you can," Sam says and reaches for Lucifer's hand on the railing. 

The devil decides that he needs to kiss Sam before the answer to the mysterious ruins of the mood. Sex will be easier than thinking about what incites him about this tall dark man. 

When Lucifer's fingers touch Sam's, he catches the expression in his eyes. There is as much interest and want in them as Lucifer feels. It's a rare case of honest attraction and nothing in this universe can stop him from sleeping with that man. No matter if it is wise or not. 

They are almost the same height. It's easy to lean forwards and brush his lips over Sam's who responds by pulling Lucifer close until their chests are pressed together. It's ridiculous how easily their bodies fit. There is no awkward fumbling or elbows get shoved into sides. No knees or feet they have to watch because both are used to smaller partners. 

Instead, there is only the avid heat spreading between them. An intense, passionate thirst that goes beyond the usual appetite. When Sam fights with Lucifer's suit, blind, because he can't stop kissing him, the devil realizes how fervent their making-out session has become. 

He is going to have sex with Sam right here on the balcony if their hunger continues like this. 

"Can we take this somewhere else?" He asks and runs one hand across Sam's rumbled shirt. He has never been more pleased about the man's lack of attire, as simple and boring as it seemed at first glance. "A bed, perhaps?" 

"Yes," Sam groans. There is desperation in his voice. 

A yearning sizzling in his veins which Lucifer understands far too well. He  _ needs  _ Sam fully pressed against his body. He needs to taste his skin and he wants to hear that once moan his name. 

The next loud groan is his own. Sam's intention to go inside gets side-tracked when he presses Lucifer against the doorframe. Hard enough that the glass door rattles. Something digs painfully into Lucifer's back but he doesn't care. His focus rests on the thigh that gets shoved between his legs and Lucifer is tempted to ride it out right here. 

"Bed!" Lucifer snarls when he comes up for a breath. He refuses to get fucked on the cold floor. 

Besides there is lube they are going to need and he doubts they will be satisfied with just one round. For he can't decide if he wants Sam's cock in his mouth, have the man spread out under him, or ride him until there is nothing left of his sanity. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


They make it to the bed, but only barely. There are raised lines on Lucifer's back when Sam made short work of his shirt. The devil is just as pleased to discover the first bite marks near Sam's neck when he finally has this gorgeous man lying between his sheets. 

"You said something about rules and boundaries," Lucifer rasps. He is proud of himself to have remembered that. 

But it's probably a good thing to ask. His imagination knows no end and it should frighten him what he wants to do Sam. He is taken by the idea to  _ have  _ that man. To possess him, carve him open and drag away the layers until Lucifer finds the answers to his questions. 

He has to remind himself that this tryst is with a mortal. Not an ordinary one, that much Lucifer can sense. But he doesn't  _ know  _ how much Sam can take. Doesn't know his limits and his history. 

A memory of the Laughing Magician swims to the surface but Lucifer shoves it away. history with John Constantine is of a different nature. 

A man like Sam in his bed deserves his full attention. His chiseled, greek-god like body alone is a rare treat. Lucifer licks over the bare skin on Sam's collarbone and excepts to find the ambrosia of Mount Olymp. When was the last time Lucifer had such a warrior between his sheets? 

Sam appears to be startled for a moment, stumbling over the question as he twists against the wet tongue tickling him. It like as if he has forgotten his own words. The thought pleases Lucifer a lot. 

He prides himself in knowing limits and boundaries. Sam must find his presence relaxing enough to trust him on an instinctual level. Not that Lucifer intends to go too far. There might be excitement in pushing boundaries but he already swims in lust, though they are barely skin to skin. 

"I don't mind it if it's rough, but I don't want it  _ hard. _ " Sam is on his back, having dragged Lucifer on top of him and currently holds his face in his hands. "Not tonight." 

He waits, offering no further explanation like he hopes that Lucifer is going to understand. 

He does. There is a difference between falling apart under the hands of a lover and soul-deep humiliation. 

Lucifer nods, more breathless than he is comfortable admitting. 

"We want to have fun," he confirms, "There is no reason to break each other." 

It escapes Lucifer's notice of how much power he yields at that moment when he thinks Sam capable of such a feat. 

Instead, he delights in Sam's gasp when he lets himself fall on the muscled thighs. Everything about this man is well-honed perfection. Lucifer cannot wait and rubs himself against the bulge. 

"What ... about you?" Sam murmurs against Lucifer's ears, hot and wanting as the bar owner impatiently fumbles with the belt. 

Below them, the music of the late-night hours slipping into the early morning still reaches them in faint tones. They are muted vibrations but they still set the atmosphere. 

Lucifer stares down at the bare chest below. When he traces a white scar and his eyes fall on the tattoo on Sam's chest, he almost forgets Sam's question. Only when his lust addled mind translates what the tattoo probably stand for, he gathers a few still-functioning brain cells together. 

Sam does wondrous things to his neck and Lucifer angles his head to give him better access. 

"I am a tough guy. I would ... appreciate it if we could leave my father out of this," Lucifer manages between two particular bites that have him rutting against Sam's lap. Who is hard and huge and still trapped in his jeans. 

"Okay," Sam rasps. He wraps his large hands around Lucifer's waist and his fingers are almost touching. 

Then he puts his thumbs into Lucifer's pants and shoves them down as far as he is able to. 

"That's a good idea," Lucifer says before Sam claims his mouth for a kiss again. 

It is surprisingly slow-paced, given how the lust simmers between them. For minutes they are content to kiss and explore newly revealed skin. They are not driven by human nature to get off as fast as possible. 

Sam is a patient man and it's driving Lucifer slowly mad when one of his hands has settled on his ass and still has not taken any actions towards making proper use of these beautiful fingers. 

"How do you want this?" There is a slight growl in Sam's voice. It goes straight to Lucifer's groin. 

"I want you to open me up. I'm not missing out riding these fingers of yours." Lucifer gasps and twists when teeth play with his nipples. 

His hands land in Sam's air and he wonders if he can get away with summoning lube out of thin air. 

"Fine with me." Sam looks like his mouth has gone dry and his eyes have a feverish glint. 

They twist around. Lucifer lands in his pillows before he can react and his entire body tingles. When it has been the last time, someone manhandled him in his own bed? Oh, there were a few women but with the strength lingering behind Sam's action it dawns on Lucifer that the question about the safeword earlier may not have been an entirely bad idea. 

Just in case. Not that Lucifer  _ needs  _ one. He can take a lot. 

Right now he rather watches Sam lose his jeans.

His fingers dig into the expensive linen of his bed when Sam frees Lucifer from his boxers. Determination drives that man and he would be mad to interrupt. 

Lucifer cannot decide what exactly he wants first. 

Eons in hell have burned the world  _ heavenly  _ out of Lucifer's thoughts. He no longer makes such comparisons. It hurts too much to think about it. Yet, he comes close when he wraps his arms around Sam and allows to have the living daylights kissed out of him. 

A whine searches its way from the depth of Lucifer's soul. The slide of Sam's tongue against his own has him forgetting the century they live in. A hint of teeth against his skin carries Lucifer into another plane of existence. 

He is hard and wanting, closer to losing himself after these few minutes of closeness than he is comfortable admitting. Any other day Lucifer would have fled the scene already. Any other person the devil would have scared away after showing so much unintended vulnerability. 

But Lucifer is a breath away from pouring all the power of the Lightbringer over Los Angeles. He is the shaper of stars, their shepherd. He is Lucifer, God's once most beloved son. He has led his brethren into hell and damnation. 

None of these facts matter when Sam presses him deeper into the pillows, kissing him until they are both breathless and heaving. Lucifer's legs end up over Sam's shoulders and he is nearly doubled in half as strong hands land beside his head. 

Somewhere in the back of his old mind Lucifer is aware that reality is slipping away from him. But he ceases to care when Sam gets rid of his own boxers and wraps a hand around their hard, leaking shafts. 

Panting, Lucifer wretches his lips away from Sam's skin. He feels like he stumbled into Desire's own realm, slave to the whim of the Endless. But he has met Desire and all their siblings. 

Sam is nothing like them. 

Trembling, Lucifer reaches up to gently touch Sam's cheek. Afraid too much pressure has Sam disappearing like a dream, he is careful as he caresses the warm skin. 

Only a glance in Sam's eyes tells him that the man above him is just as lost and hopeless in the current as Lucifer. They reach a silent understand at that moment. 

"Sam," Lucifer moans and arches his back. He wants his entire being pressed against this mortal as close as physically possible. 

It feels like salvation when Sam blinks, breaking the moment of intense concentration, and returns to the task of easing the pulsating need in his hand. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


"Fuck," Lucifer murmurs into his pillow. 

Sunlight streams through the windows. It is bright enough for midday to have long passed. Outside he senses the busy life of a sunny LA. The ocean continues its steady assault on the beach while chatter and honking cars interrupt Lucifer's slumber. 

His cellphone vibrates viciously across the room. 

He does not need to look at the screen to know that it is the detective trying to reach him. 

Slowly and with great effort Lucifer untangles himself from the white sheets and pads across the room. His movements are sluggish and his muscles burn. As Angel, he rarely sleeps. Grace and power ensure the tiredness vanishes within the short minute that it takes to answer his phone. 

"How can I help you, Detective?" Lucifer asks. His mind is distracted, thinking about what kind of interesting case Chloe might have in store for him when his gaze lands on his rumbled bed. 

With a pang of regret, he discovers that it empty. 

Chloe's insistent voice demanding his presence at the station does not allow him to wonder where Sam might have vanished to. Only the knowledge that he will see the man later tonight at the bar, has him put off the thought to chase him down this very second. 

The pleasant ache and the sated feeling of a successful night tells Lucifer that he is allowed some patience. 

  
  


  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot do the Vertigo Comic's justice. Lucifer is a lovely bastard in them and while I try to install some of his badassery into the story, he is still much closer to the show than I prefer. Take it as an artistic reinterpretation, which is a pretty way of saying that this story is a guilty pleasure first and foremost.


	3. Chapter 3

Usually, Lucifer delights in tagging along with Chloe. Humans are fun, especially when they try to wrangle with justice. Often enough, Lucifer trips over Chloe's human sensibilities and even Maze learned to be a bit less bloodthirsty around her. It helps, though, that Chloe refuses to see the truth in front of her. 

"Maybe we will find a camera that recorded the crime." Currently, Chloe discusses the chances if the surveillance cameras on the streets and on the office buildings caught something on tape with a technician. Lucifer pities the young man for hours of fruitless labor. He won't find anything. 

He tells the detective as much. 

"Oh, tell me why?" Chloe demands to know. The victim has already been bagged and scuffled away first in the morning. No one needs the press haunting the beach like vultures. 

"The  _suspect,_ " Lucifer rolls the word over his tongue. It will please Chloe if he uses the right terms. She will be less tense and the earlier they are done here the better. "You won't get any pictures of a human fleeing the scene, The suspect vanished into the water." 

Lucifer points at something that could be a trail leading into the waves. They are not footprints. It is barely enough to support his theory but since Chloe won't accept  _homicidal mermaid_ he needs to be creative. 

"We'll check it out. Thanks, Lucifer," Chloe says, but she knows the hint will explain why no one in the area has seen something. 

The crime scene is bloody, the murder weapon hasn't been found yet and the victim looked like a small shark wanted to eat him for dinner. One reason why Chloe is supposed to keep the press out of it. 

Lucifer keeps walking up and down the beach. He is far too quiet for Chloe's taste but with a murder at a public beach, she has more urgent matters to deal with. She is glad that Lucifer isn't up to his usual antics today. 

"What's up with you?" She asks later during lunch break, wolfing down her sandwich. 

The crime scene had been cleaned up and the rest is out of her hands. Without any more leads, the murder will fall through the cracks. As Lucifer said, the suspect killed the victim, went back into the water, and probably used a boat to getaway. 

Lucifer chews on a more expensive meal. While the detective might live on sandwiches and coffee, he is not keen on missing these culinary opportunities. 

"I have met someone interesting last night," Lucifer says while digs into his crabs. At Chloe's frown, irritation that Lucifer's distracted and suppressed jealousy, he laughs and tears of a piece of bread. "We had a pleasant evening together, detective. Unfortunately, he was gone in the morning and I had no chance to reach out to him yet." 

Chloe raises an eyebrow.  _"He?"_

She is used to Lucifer's never-ending string of people he takes into his bed. Seldomly he mentions his one-night stands, though. 

Lucifer shrugs but can help himself with a hint of a dirty grin. "I am a creature of equal opportunities, detective." 

Chloe shakes her head and checks her phone if the lab has some results already. While she is texting Dan and Ella, Lucifer's thoughts trail back to Sam. Despite the murderous mermaid haunting the beaches of L.A., the case isn't that interesting. Not when last night had been surprisingly intense. 

Sam wrung moans from him, simply by kissing Lucifer so thoroughly he forgot that the encounter was supposed to be a game. Most of his one-night stands are. They are supposed to be fun, not ... 

Lucifer has to hide the flash of desire surging through him. Thankfully, Chloe is too occupied with the lap report of shooting from last week to pay attention to his red eyes. 

His meal forgotten and his appetite evaporating in the air like a puddle in the sun, Lucifer inhales deeply. This is not the right place to bask in pleasure. The memory of Sam's skin makes him thirsty. 

When they walk through the scorching midday sun of LA Lucifer can't wait for the day to be over. 

  
  


* * *

  
  


  
  


"Good evening," Lucifer greets his new favorite human when he finally makes his way back to the Lux. 

The club is still empty, only a handful of people scurry across the dance floor. They belong to the crowd that appreciates Lucifer's domain in a different way. Those citizens that are a little different from mortals, use the Lux as neutral territory. Lucifer doesn't permit any kind of infighting under his roof and he is paid in favors and gossip. 

Today, he has only eyes for Sam, though, and stalks past a group of vampires he would have greeted warmly on any other day. 

"I had not thought you would be the type to flee the bed," Lucifer opens the conversation with a hint of displeasure in his voice. "I missed you this morning. Last night was far too short for my taste." 

Usually, Lucifer doesn't care for repetitions. The boys and girls trying to get into his bed twice, he has no interest in. Often, the young mortals want a single exciting night and focus on their true desire afterward. Those with a different goal in mind, namely power, the Prince of Hell deals with otherwise. 

"Oh? I wasn't aware you would insist on eating breakfast together," Sam angles his head to the side. 

He smiles at Lucifer while washing cocktail glasses. He looks out of place in this fancy club. The glittering dresses of the women flirting with him don't match his washed-out jeans and his grey shirt. 

Sam appears to at ease in Lucifer's presence and that alone is reason enough to want and need to quell forth like a newly discovered spring. 

"You are different," Lucifer growls and edges closer. There is still the counter between them but one more of these seductive smiles and he will pull Sam across the table. "I cannot remember the last time when a single orgasm took me by such surprise." 

It's infuriating that Sam seems to know something Lucifer doesn't. The human chuckles and turns away to take an order from a ravishing looking female vampire. Her red lips are an open invitation and she purrs in delight when Sam's shirt stretches over the broad shoulders. 

Lucifer digs his hand into the counter, afraid he will take the damned woman's head if doesn't exceed some self-control. 

Only a tiny voice reminds him to be reasonable. Sam would not appreciate it if Lucifer bends him over the counter for the world to see. He reaches for an entire bottle of whiskey. Maybe his temper will be appeased by a good drink. 

He puts the bottle to his lips. A pleased rumble escapes his chests when Lucifer feels Sam's eyes focusing on him, though he is still handling an order. 

Their gazes meet across the bar and a primal instinct rises in Lucifer. It takes self-control not to pour his power into the Lux, spread his wings over Sam, and stake his claim. There is a little voice screaming  _mine, mine, mine_ ... 

Even half across the room Lucifer notices how Sam's breath hitches. 

The devil slides around the counter and puts the bottle back onto the shelf. He leans against Sam's back and wraps an arm around his waist. "Are we going to continue this later?" 

The urge to drag Sam to the elevator and push him against the nearest solid surface is painful. It is agonizing that there are dozens on the dance floor already, more to follow. The LUX is a famous club in LA, high-end and not easy to get into. Enough people wait weeks in line just to hear him play and sing. 

Lucifer has a crowd to please. Tonight, it will be agonizing and sordid to sit among them, knowing he will sing just for Sam. Of course, he will. He does not make a habit out of lying to himself. 

With a last smile, Lucifer turns around and stalks to his private corner. It's near his piano and directly across the bar. 

A predatory smile graces his face when Lucifer gets comfortable. The leather is pleasantly cool on his skin. He has the entire night to watch Sam work. 

Since it's too early for his show, he uses the time and enjoys the recollection of last night. Between the urgent kisses, the forceful and intense want driving them to rut between the sheets, and their hands gliding over flushed skin like famished souls rising from hell into heavenly light Lucifer hadn't the time to truly appreciate the man. 

In the half-light of the club, Lucifer takes note of how guarded Sam appears. He does a good job at wringing good conversations out of the guests, make them feel comfortable but it's undeniable that he's not here for the nightlife. There's also no doubt that he is armed in some manner. Given his physics, he must have passed Maze's muster. Maze is an incredible fighter and Lucifer wonders how Sam fared against her. 

A shudder runs down his spine just thinking about it. A man who showed no fear to treat casually with the devil must be able to hold his own against one of the Lilim. He resists the urge to phone Maze. As much as he needs to know more about Sam, a call would only make Maze suspicious. 

His fingertips remember the scars Lucifer had barely time to explore. There were old and new ones. 

_... his lips trace over the collarbone, lick over the neck ... Lucifer is too preoccupied with the fingers slipping past his entrance to pay attention to the black lines on Sam's chest..._

Lucifer narrows his eyes when he remembers the shape and form of the tattoo. In hindsight, it felt eerie and gloomy. Certainly not originating in the new age movement. There was power behind it. 

One glance across the room confirms the doubts gnawing in the back of his mind. There is an aura around Sam. He stands out, there is an edge to him that is uncommon among mortals. Compared to Chloe who possesses natural protection against the mystical, Sam is drenched in shadows. They surround him like a cloak. 

The only person who moves in a similar manner, not with arrogance or hidden fear with the powers they surround themselves with but with normality which comes from decades of familiarity and practice, is John Constantine. 

Lucifer suppresses a hiss. It is the wrong time and place to go look for the laughing magician. He had shared experiences with John Constantine. Sam feels different. Tempting, in a way dear John isn't. 

"My Lord, may I have a moment of your time?" A tall vampire asks. She doesn't bow deeply but only because there are too many mortals around them. It is the same woman Lucifer nearly decapitated an hour ago. 

"Go head, Caihong," Lucifer waves his hand in an offhanded gesture. 

Despite his possessive urge, the vamp is a known power in LA and he likes her company. She keeps the mob and other criminal organizations away from him, people Lucifer does not bother with on a daily basis. It holds too much of mortal affairs that are drenched in money and power, and he just escaped the same regime in hell. 

"I would like to apologize if crossed a boundary earlier, my Lord." Caihong bows again. "Would you tell me how the man behind the bar is related to you? He is new and just asked if your club keeps  _special_ drinks for my kind." 

"Matthew belongs to my staff but I appreciate your inquiry," Lucifer says, with a low timbre in his voice. Caihong nods gracefully. "Please ensure your kind gets along with him, especially since he is aware of your special needs. Those, by the way, have not changed in the slightest." 

He dismisses her with more regard than he granted her a few minutes ago. This small conversation opened an entirely new perspective. 

"So you are not as clueless as you try to make yourself appear," Lucifer says to himself and leans back. 

Desire tangles with curiosity and his obsession with this strange man grows. 

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentines Day. I return with a chapter as a reminder that you are not alone and that everyone deserves love.

The Lux is a popular club in LA, notorious for its owner and his beautiful voice. Sam ignores the dancers and drunk girls. Occasionally, he interrupts an argument because Mazikeen told him it's part of his job to keep order. Lucifer is certainly not the right person for it. The devil relishes the chaos he causes, uncaring or perhaps simply not knowing how much the Lux differs from a regular club. Sam doubts Lucifer notices the drugs, the misery and the desperation which people try to forget for one night. For him, they must be like fireflies: pretty but inconsequential. 

It is a strange sight, an Archangel among humans. Sam spent his entire life away from scenes like this one. Even his time away at college does not compare to the freedom the visitors bask in. As he keeps handing out drinks, Sam tries to remember if he ever visited a club like this outside of a hunt. His memories come up empty. 

Having been raised in a car and an endless row of shady motel rooms, crowds like these make him nervous. The small worries of the civilians around him are slightly irritating. Habits born from hunting force him to listen and try if he picks up interesting gossip. After two weeks, the excuses are always the same. 

"He is cheating on me."    
"I will never find the right man."    
"She loves someone else."    
"She is not even looking at me." 

Sam listens, quietly, but keeps his opinion to himself. These people want someone to vent to. A friendly face that supplies them with strong drinks that buy temporary oblivion. 

An hour later the club turns quiet. The DJ lowers the music and switches to a softer tone. For a few minutes, nearly everyone swarms Sam's bar. Two of the waitresses help him to mix drinks, everyone wants glass in their hands for the big show coming up. 

The whispers fall entirely silent when Lucifer walks on stage, towards the piano. 

Sam swallows dry and reaches for a glass of water. He is glad that no one has their eyes on him. 

"Matthew?" Diana asks. "Are you alright?" 

It takes Sam a moment to remember the fake name he has given the staff. He blinks in Diana's direction. She looks worried beneath the bright strands of her hair. 

"Yeah, I am fine. I guess I am not used to the show yet," he answers. "It's been two weeks and it remains breathtakingly beautiful." 

Diana smiles. Just like him, she uses the break to restock their drinks and get the bar into order. 

"I know what you mean," she says. "His voice is amazing." 

There is a dreamy look on her face. Sam has to agree with her but he isn't comfortable with the emotions Lucifer's voice invokes. 

The entire club holds their breath when Lucifer sits down and begins to play. 

Sam lacks the words to describe what happens next. He has grown up to rock music blasting from the Impala's speakers and to whatever music ran in the background of the millions of bars they passed through. He cannot remember if he ever heard a piano live. 

But Lucifer playing the instrument feels like stepping into another world. The club falls away and the Archangel might as well sit among the stars. Sam wonders how the guests perceive what happens in front of them. They are small-minded people, unaware of the truth right in front of them. Is it possible that they remain ignorant, even after this? 

In his universe, Sam has seen victims of the supernatural trying to dismiss the obvious. It rarely worked. Once their eyes were opened, they could not forget what they had seen. Here, there is a line between the supernatural and the mortal world. Like a glamour that has been cast over reality. 

Lucifer's voice, his singing, opens infinite possibilities of shape and colours for Sam. It is like the witnesses the birth of a star. A sharp focus slips into his mind. His watch says the show barely lasts three minutes. For Sam, they are aeons beyond counting. 

The cheering from the ordinary people calls him back to reality. Lucifer has stopped but it takes Sam running on autopilot to get through the people swarming the bar again. 

The tune raised every single hair on his body. The notes might as well as have faded away but their effect remains. The group of vampires staggers towards the exit. Given how unsteady their leader appears, Sam is not the only one shaken by the experience. They look drunk on power, like children trapped in a dream. 

_Every time,_ he thinks.  _Thankfully he does not sing every single night._

"Did you enjoy the show?" Lucifer purrs when he slides onto a barstool an hour later. The low, flickering lights cast silver shadows on his skin. 

The club emptied out a little after his performance. Those who remained are still high from the experience. The DJ, a woman Sam suspects to be a succubus, plays a seductive tune. Pairs with every gender combination retreated to the sitting areas. Only a few couples still claim the dance floor but they are moving slowly. 

Lucifer leans across the bar and helps himself with the whiskey. Sam hauls the bottles he brought from the storeroom into the fridge. He is glad that he had a moment to step out and clear his head. Though, Los Angeles at night barely helps to regain a sense of balance. It might not be necessary but Sam invites the comparison between this world and his own. 

"Immensely," Sam answers. It is a relief that Lucifer no longer displays the light he harbours beneath. While he played and sung, Sam sensed his power. He felt the outline of his true form brushing against his mind. 

It does not look like Lucifer noticed anything off. 

He only caught him staring, felt Sam's eyes on him. 

"Have you thought about my invitation? We didn't get very far last night," Lucifer rumbles under his breath. He has the eyes of a predator. While his black suit helps to cloak the devil in the shadows of hell again, his eyes betray what race he belongs to. 

Sam has too much experience with angels. He cannot  _not_ notice why Lucifer carries the title Morningstar. 

The raw power he is accustomed to. It is not the first time he wrapped his hands around such a powerline. 

It is the tenderness in the star-grey eyes that has him falter. After years of betrayals and disappointments, his sense of love and affection never ventured outside Cas and Dean. He trusts no one else anymore. 

"We had fun," Sam answers and goes about the clean up the bar. Lisa will kill him if he messes up. She has a shift during the day and very specific ideas about how the cabinets need to be stocked. 

The tasks do not distract him from the fact that he feels Lucifer's gaze on his back. 

"We never got as far as you promised me," Lucifer chides him. He bares his teeth to a smile and runs his tongue across his lips. 

It throws Sam off that he expects it to be forked. Like someone else's showed him a long time ago. 

"You didn't look upset when I made you come on my fingers," Sam answers. The banter is easy and he cannot deny that the sex had been fantastic. 

"Maybe I want to ride more than your fingers." Lucifer's growl resonates in his chest. 

Sam's laugh surprises them both. "You will have to wait until I am done. My shift ends in two hours." 

"I am the owner of this damned club. I can drag you away from this bar whenever I want," Lucifer tries to insist. He looks like he is ready to haul Sam across the room and ravish him in the elevator. 

The grin Sam sends the devil is cocky, dirty, and confident. He shrugs, "We both know that it's Maze who is in charge of the business. So forgive me for playing by her rules, not yours." 

The last thing Sam wants is to make a demon like Maze his enemy. He lived through a lot of battles and he knows when he needs every chance he can get in case something goes wrong. Maze is far more experienced in battle than Lucifer. The difference in power ensures that Lucifer never has to prove himself. Everyone who knows him backs off. 

Sam's instincts, though, have been screwed up for a long time. 

He doesn't care about Lucifer's glower. The red tint around his eyes makes his smile only wider. There is no use pretending that he is one of the clueless mortals around them. 

"Bold words, Sam. You should watch what you say," Lucifer hisses. Hellfire burns in his eyes. They promise pain and torment for any unfortunate soul that crosses him. 

Sam grabs a towel and starts cleaning the bar. He is not startled by the aura Lucifer surrounds himself with. An easy smile graces his lips as he raises his chin, challenging Lucifer's authority. It's magnificent to watch how Lucifer straightens his back and recoils when Sam holds his gaze. 

He has stared down worse things. He survived fare more dire situations than this. 

The difference is that Lucifer is right. There is still the lust and the excitement pooling in his belly. He wants to scrape his fingernails over Lucifer's neck and make true of his promises. 

Sam admits he gets himself often into trouble when he thinks with his dick. According to Dean, he always had a weird taste. Through the years, the suspicion and the judgement simmered down to eye-rolling and occasional teasing. 

He has to shake to image off how Lucifer would look like in a bed with fine linen, gasping and growling Sam's name when he is pushed towards but not over the edge. 

Guilt tries to sink its claws into Sam's back. The offer yesterday took him by surprise, though he had two weeks of studying Lucifer. He didn't imagine how the weight of his attention would feel. 

Clearly, he underestimated his own reaction. 

As Sam clears up the bar and the empty tables around it, Lucifer's gaze follows him. The archangel backed off but he is not going about his business either. 

With a slight groan, Sam wonders if he is going to survive the next hours. The question of what is going to happen afterwards is useless. The memory of tasting Lucifer's skin on his tongue ... no, Sam will not be able to resist. The effort to walk away leads only to a lonely desperate night in the motel room. 

Sam watches the dark-haired devil out of the corner of his eyes, studying him in a reflection. From this angle, he catches how the suit stretches over Lucifer's shoulders and all Sam can think about ripping it off until he's naked, and pressed against the bar. 

The club is nearly empty now. The bouncer and the last waitress shoo the remaining guests out of the door. 

"Tell me Sam," Lucifer's voice is made of silk and honey, "What do you desire?" 

Power runs down Sam's spine. He struggles to get a word and has to steady himself by reaching for the solid wood of the counter. Glass shatters on the ground when Sam drops a tray. The world blurs before his eyes. 

There is nothing but Lucifer's power filling out the room. His singing from before pales against what Sam experiences at this moment, now with all of that age and weight of an Archangel's grace focused on him. 

"I...," Sam tries to breathe. He cannot look away from his desires any longer. 

In front of him, the shell Lucifer attempts to hold up around mortals, falls away and on the fall the shadows of his wings stretch through the Lux. Sam remains frozen on the spot, his gaze bears into Lucifer's eyes despite the distance between them. 

The question rings through his head, digging through his thoughts and dreams. Memories flash in front of his inner eyes. Sam thought he knew the answer, once. He told John Winchester that he wanted to be normal. He argued that he wanted to feel safe. 

He gave up on that a long time ago. 

"Oh that's an unusual sight. There aren't many capable of such feat, but you can tell me," Lucifer says and rises from his spot. His motions are fluid and he approaches Sam like a predator. Sweet and carefully, he runs a finger over Sam's face. From his temple down to his chin. "Don't try to resist, Sam. It's never good to swim in denial. Go ahead. What do you see when you close your eyes? What is your deepest, darkest desire?" 

For a minute there is nothing between them but the charged air, filled by the sound of Sam's ragged breathing where the hunter struggles with a mountain of truths he never acknowledged. 

Finally, Sam snaps out of it. He shoves Lucifer against the bar, hungry to repeat the last night. The frustration he felt all day pours out in a deep gutted sound. 

"I want  _you,"_ he snarls. 

It is absolutely thrilling how Lucifer gasps in surprise when he stumbles back and Sam gets a knee between his legs. He delights in the shameless response despite having the devil cornered against his own bar. Fingers dig into his shoulders, another hand tugs roughly at Sam's hair. 

Sam's hands find their way beneath Lucifer's shirt, dragging the open jacket from his shoulders. He throws it over a chair and delights in the hiss he gets as a response to scratching bare skin. 

He watches Lucifer lick over his own lips, grinding himself against Sam who bucked his hips and leans down, moaning. Sam claims Lucifer's mouth with his own. He forces his tongue past Lucifer's soft lips, tasting again what he already had last night. 

A low husky tone escapes Lucifer who runs a hand through Sam's hair, unwilling to let go. The other hand settles on his ass, slipping to the back pockets of his jeans. 

"Let's get this upstairs," Lucifer says between two kisses. The arousal is painful between them, the coarse fabric of Sam's jeans grinds against his groin. "There is no need to fuck behind the bar." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted the damned "What do you desire?" question in this fic. I struggled to find an answer and this one is the only I was satisfied with. I accept alternatives, it might depend on which point in his life you ask Sam.

**Author's Note:**

> There will be more but this is a WIP and I am notoriously bad at those.


End file.
